


Murder and Macaroni Art

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Derek Hale, Gen, Good Peter Hale, Left Hand Peter Hale, Young Peter Hale, and everybody lived okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Peter completes Left Hand training and goes home to remind himself why.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Peter Hale
Comments: 80
Kudos: 420





	Murder and Macaroni Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsRidcully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/gifts).



> The title came before the story. Miss R said 'that should be a fic' and lo and behold, I remembered how to write short things.

"Do it, Peter." Aunt Margaret's voice doesn't waver. Her hands are steady on Peter's shoulders.

Peter isn't so confident. His right hand is so clammy he almost drops the gun he's holding. Goddamn, that would be a disaster. He's already afraid of fucking up; he doesn't need that kind of mishap making his mentor question her judgment.

Tonight is the culmination of months of training, but he's still not sure he's ready to kill.

"Don't do it," the omega in front of them begs, rattling his chains. "I didn't know I was in your territory. Please." 

"Shut up," Margaret says, squeezing Peter's shoulders. "Peter, you know what you have to do. You know why."

The omega killed a hiker in the Preserve less than two days ago. Not just in Beacon Hills, but close to their den. Margaret doesn't have to tell Peter how that puts the pack at risk, how it makes the pups vulnerable. Peter knows.

The omega shows his throat in submission and whines. "C'mon, man." 

Peter knows the man has to die for what he did, for what he still might do. But Peter's never taken a life before, and he's afraid to. He knows once he does it, his Protector training will be complete, and Aunt Margaret and her wife will go back to Oregon to protect their own small pack.

"You're ready, Peter," Aunt Margaret says quietly. "And you know we'll only be a phone call away once we go."

 _Don't use your claws unless you have to_ , she told him weeks ago. _It attracts suspicion. Hunters. And it's a bitch to clean up after._

Peter clears his throat. He wishes he wasn't so nervous. "I just shoot him, huh." It's not a question, but Margaret answers him anyway.

"Two shots, two wolfsbane bullets to the head. Don't ever take a chance."

Peter takes a breath and cracks his neck. "All right." He ignores the man's shout and shoots him. Just like Margaret said: Bang. Bang.

He lowers the gun but keeps staring at the dead omega.

"There you go. Easy," Margaret says.

Peter nods, but he has nothing to say.

"Next to the last lesson," Margaret says. "Body disposal. I've already taught you how, but we'll call this your practical exam."

It takes longer than he thought it would, but in the end, the omega is in scattered pieces two counties over, and they're driving back home.

"What's the last lesson?" Peter asks as they pull up to the den. Dawn's already over, and he can hear sounds of rambunctious pups running through the house.

Aunt Margaret nods her head toward the house. "When you're the Left Hand, you need to remember why you do what you do. And that means spending time with your pack, especially after you do what you did last night."

"Kill someone?" Peter asks.

"You protected your pack. Always remember that." She leans in and scents him, kisses the top of his head. "Whatever you call it — Left Hand, Enforcer, Spymaster — you remember what that means. You're the Hales' Protector. Keep who you're protecting in your heart."

Peter swallows hard and nods. 

Aunt Margaret smiles then. "You're young, but you're quick and clever and deadly. I have faith in you, Peter."

"Thank you," Peter replies.

"I know you're tired, but see if you can play with the pups before you go to bed," she says.

Peter is tired, but hearing Laura and Derek squealing with joy makes him smile. He won't mind spending a few minutes with them this morning.

He's glad he changed into clean clothes after disposing of the body, though. He wouldn't know how to explain to the pups why Uncle Peter's covered in blood.

Margaret hangs back. She picks up her phone, motions that she's making a call, and to go ahead. Peter trudges into the house and then toward the noise.

He soon finds himself in the middle of an impromptu game of chase. It doesn't last too long, though. As soon as they smell food cooking in the kitchen, they head to the table. 

Talia's already there, feeding Cora. She looks up at Peter and gives a wary smile. "Good morning."

Peter looks around the room as Joseph brings in the food, and smiles back at his sister. "It is, isn't it?"

"Oh!" Derek suddenly says. He looks at his food, obviously conflicted, then looks at Peter. "Don't let Laura get my bacon!" He runs off then, and Peter can hear his feet pounding their way up the stairs.

"Protector of the bacon," Talia says with a smile. "That's some trust he's showing you there."

Laura looks like she's going to grab a piece from Derek's plate anyway, so Peter flashes his eyes at her. She snatches her hand back and tries to look innocent.

"Your eyes aren't blue," Talia murmurs.

Peter tilts his head. "No guilt."

Derek interrupts what she might have said in reply. "Look, Uncle Peter!" he says, shoving a piece of green construction paper at him. It has a large popsicle stick frame. "Look, I made it! It's you and me!"

Peter takes the art reverently, which makes Derek's scent go sweet with pride. "You did this yourself?" Peter asks, looking at the random pieces of hard macaroni glued around a stick figure drawing of two people holding hands. 

"Uh-huh!" Derek says. "Do you like it?"

Peter focuses on Derek now and sees hope and love in his eyes. _This_ is worth protecting. It's worth dying for, killing for. "Very much. Do I get to keep it?"

Derek's eyes get even bigger. "You really want to?"

Everything Margaret said about protecting the pack and spending time with the pups makes sense. It fits everything together. It makes Peter go from feeling ambivalent about being the Left Hand to being grateful he can do it. He's glad his pack has a protector, and he's proud to do it himself. 

"Yes, of course, Derek," Peter says when he realizes his nephew's still waiting for an answer. "I'm going to put it on the wall in my room, by my desk. So I can look up and see it whenever I want."

Derek hugs him then, skinny arms wrapping around him as far as they can reach. Peter feels like beaming himself as he hugs back and pats Derek on the back. 

He can be the Left Hand. He'll do anything if he can keep having moments like these.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
